29 November 2017

Maybe you didn’t know this, but I am unlicensed private investigator who has never solved a case, and who has, on more than one occasion, made cases unsolvable by accidentally destroying crucial evidence, compromising crime scenes, and alienating key witnesses.

See here, a business card I never printed:

(I need to actually finish these (there should be more space between my two godforsaken occupations~))

Well, wouldn’t you know it, I’ve decided to launch an official investigation. I want to know


What happened to what? To the whole god damn world.

Years ago, when I was still wet behind the ears, and possibly an even worse private investigator than I am today, I got a table in some awful bar in downtown Berkeley and alone I wondered: Who killed the world’s balls? I spent the next month, night after night and never sleeping, investigating the Bay Area. A few leads here and there, but not enough to build a case on.

It is clear to me now, as it was then, that something has gone terribly wrong . . . maybe in the last twenty years, maybe in the last twenty-thousand years. At any rate, I’m going to get to the bottom of it. I’m doing it pro bono: my gift to the human race.

As you might imagine, most of the details pertaining to this case must be kept confidential. If the lizards knew exactly what I was up to, they would have me crucified to the Statue of Liberty in the blink of a sideways-blinking eye. Or maybe they’d maroon me on Alcatraz Island with a tub of vaseline and a pair of binoculars, where I’d be forced to watch the world burn. Those sons of bitches, I swear.

When I first began to wonder, I had a partner. For all I know, the poor fool is dead now. I guess I’m gonna do what I always do, which is to go it alone. The stakes are high . . . can I succeed at my task? To find the parties responsible for the greatest crime ever committed?

Time to hit the streets, old man. Time to find the squealers and make them squeal. I’ll get it out of them, and then I’ll expose the psychopaths behind this nightmare machine . . . or maybe I’ll ruin everything and wind up dead. I’m going to count on that outcome, but I’ve got to try anyway. All I know is that it’s gonna get dirty before it’s all over with. Well, Jesus. Someone’s got to do it.